Showdown at Ahm Shere
by SidewinderNate
Summary: I've made a few improvements to chapter 3. Coming soon will be chapter 4 of the stunning adventure in which Alex is kidnapped, and the O'Connels must put on a breathtaking rescue effort to change the course of a terrible fate.
1. Just Like Old Times

CAIRO - 1935  
  
Chuck Goodman took the shotglass and held it into the air. "To Hamunaptra, and to the wealth of Egypt!" he uttered. A middle-aged man with shoulder-length hair and a stubble beard, he raised one side of his mouth in a half-grin and tapped shotglasses with the rest of his friends at the round table.  
  
Another one held up his glass. "Ah, the hell with Hamunaptra!" he grunted. "To the wealth of Egypt!"  
  
"That's what I'm talkin' about!" another one agreed.  
  
At the table next to them, two figures sitting across from each other turned and glared at the loud group. One of them turned to the other. "Americans," he grunted in disgust.  
  
"Well, bad luck for them," the second one replied. "Unless they time their arrival to the spot, the city will never appear." Still staring at the loud bunch, he suddenly made eye contact with one of them.  
  
Chuck stood up and glared back at Rick O'Connel. "You got a problem with us goin' to Hamunaptra?" he growled.  
  
Jonathan took one good look at Chuck and turned to Rick. "Bad luck, chap!" he snickered.  
  
Rick shook his head toward Chuck. "No, I really don't care!"  
  
Chuck sneered at him. "Then mind your own damn business, 'cause we're going to the City of the Dead!"  
  
"No, you're not," Rick snapped.  
  
Chuck tilted his head. "Oh, we're not? And who's gonna stop us?"  
  
"No one will. You're never gonna find it." Rick grinned.  
  
"How do YOU know?" Chuck challenged him.  
  
Jonathan turned his head and gave a nervous smile. "Trust me, he knows," he cackled.  
  
"Lay off, Chuck!" one of the men at the table yelled. "Don't waste your time with a treasure hunter wannabe."  
  
Chuck frowned at Rick. "There's nothing I hate more than a nosy American!" he roared.  
  
Rick put his hands in the air. "I have no interest in going back to Hamunaptra."  
  
Chuck gave Rick a curious glance. "What do you mean 'going BACK'? You've BEEN there?"  
  
Rick nodded.  
  
"Do you swear?" another American shouted, getting up from his seat.  
  
Rick nodded. "Every damn day."  
  
"??--Wait--no, that's not what I meant--"  
  
"Yes, I know what you meant," Rick nodded again. "I was there. Trust me, you don't want to go."  
  
"Oh, yes I do!" Chuck wheezed.  
  
The second American sat down at Rick's table. "So tell me about it!" he queried with wide eyes.  
  
After a brief smile, he shook his head in annoyance. "I'll be brief. On the surface is sand and stones. Underneath is nothing but acid, bugs, and dead guys who regenerate by sucking you dry."  
  
A silence followed.  
  
"You'd better believe him, too," Jonathan broke in. "He's seen it, and so have I."  
  
"Oh," said Chuck, sitting down at their table. "What about the wealth of Egypt?"  
  
Rick paused. "Oh, yeah, that's if you get past everything else."  
  
"Oh, dear," a woman's voice called. "Making friends with treasure hunters again?" Evy O'Connel stepped toward the two tables.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart!" Rick greeted her. "These are my friends, uh--"  
  
"Chuck!" Chuck got up and grinned at her.  
  
"Barney," said the second one, also getting up.  
  
"Oh, nice to meet you," Evy greeted back. "Let me guess. Going to the City of the Dead?"  
  
Chuck nodded. "Yeah, how did you know?"  
  
"I didn't, but that's always the story," Evy replied, her eyes drifting toward Rick.  
  
"And how does the story end?" Rick asked her, rhetorically.  
  
Evy shrugged. "They get there, and all that becomes of them is sand and blood."  
  
Rick nodded.  
  
"Wow!" said Barney. "I never heard THAT bedtime story before!"  
  
Suddenly, a crack of thunder boomed throughout the street.  
  
"Dear, I think it's time to get back home," said Evy.  
  
Rick nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He stood up. "Come along, Jonathan."  
  
"Wait a minute!" Chuck snapped. "You're just discouraging us from going, and then you're leaving us in thought?"  
  
Jonathan stood up. "It's for the better, I'm sure."  
  
"Where's Alex?" Rick asked Evy as he put his arm around her hip.  
  
"Home alone," said Evy. "I didn't want to leave him for too long, and I promised him a trip to the museum once I got back."  
  
"Let's hope he's not already there," said Rick. He turned to his American friends. "Good luck, gentlemen."  
  
Chuck stared at Rick in confusion. "Oh, now you're hoping we actually return?"  
  
Rick shrugged. "Fine. Good luck staying alive. You're gonna need it."  
  
The O'Connels turned and walked down the empty street just as the first drops of rain hit the cement.  



	2. Kidnap

"Alex, you there?" Rick called from the other side of the door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key, twisted it into the keyhole, and swung the door open. "Al--" He gasped in horror. All the chairs and couches tipped over, all the drawers out and on the floor, papers scattered throughout the room, and nobody home.  
  
"What is it?" Evy asked, oblivious. Then she stepped into the room and looked around.  
  
"Looks like SOMEBODY put up a fight before disappearing," said Rick. "That's not a good thing."  
  
"Whoever kidnapped him had a knife," said Evy.  
  
Rick jumped in surprise. "What?"  
  
"Look here." Evy bent over a seatback and pointed to several slits in the cushion.  
  
"Oh, home sweet home away from home!" Jonathan sang as he trotted toward the door. "Great to get away from those guys. I didn't like them very much." He stepped in. "Now let's sit back, relax, and--oh, my God! What happened? This is terrible!" he yelled in a panic.  
  
"Yes, I know," Evy agreed.  
  
"My favorite couch!" Jonathan cried.  
  
Rick frowned. "Screw the couch! Where the hell is my son?"  
  
Jonathan looked around.  
  
"Hello," a deep voice suddenly startled them.  
  
The three of them jumped and jerked their heads toward a corner of the room.  
  
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," the figure said. He was tall, bald, and wore a black tunic. His brown eyes pierced into Rick's as he stepped forward.  
  
"The only thing that scares me is what you've done to my son," Rick snapped, bending over. He reached into a cabinet hole but found nothing.  
  
"Don't search for your guns," the figure groaned. "You won't find them."  
  
"Who are you, and where have you taken my son?" Evy barked at him.  
  
The figure grinned. "Your son is in good hands."  
  
"Good. Now give him back to us."  
  
"Sorry, I can't do that yet."  
  
"Then tell us who you are and what you want!" Rick yelled. "And fast."  
  
The figure nodded. "My name is Phoeb. I'm a descendant of the priests of Imhotep."  
  
"Imhotep?" Jonathan squeaked.  
  
Rick sighed. "That guy just doesn't quit, does he?"  
  
Phoeb pointed to Rick. "You are coming with me. You are going to help me retrieve Imhotep and then be my human sacrifice when I revive him."  
  
Rick's heart jumped. "What?"  
  
"Come with me now."  
  
Rick reached into his back pocket and pulled out his jacknife. "Back off, or you'll be mummified like your ancestors."  
  
Phoeb nodded. "Then so will your son."  
  
"NO!!" Evy screamed. "Rick, live today, fight tomorrow! Please don't kill our son!"  
  
Rick paused and turned to Evy. Breathing a sigh of sisgust, he closed the knife and slipped it onto his pocket.  
  
"No," Phoeb broke in. "Give me the knife."  
  
Rick reluctantly pulled the knife out and tossed it to Phoeb.  
  
"Now you come with me," Phoeb ordered.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" Rick snapped.  
  
Phoeb drooped his shoulders. "Do I really have to tell you?"  
  
Jonathan's eyebrows raised. "The City of the Dead?"  
  
Phoeb nodded.  
  
Rick raised a finger. "Just one thing. Imhotep didn't die at Hamunaptra."  
  
"But his soul is in the Underworld," Phoeb replied, "and I can bring it back at Hamunaptra. Now come with me.  
  
Rick turned to Evy. "This is all happening too fast!"  
  
Evy gave Rick a warm smile. "I'll have you and Alex in my arms in no time, sweetie." Then she turned to Phoeb and gave him a cold, hateful glare. "I'll be seeing YOU again," she bellowed, almost under her breath.  
  
"This way," said Phoeb. 


	3. Back to Hamunaptra

The dry, desert winds filled the air with sand, providing at least a little protection from the scorching, yellow sun. At the spot, Phoeb stopped and stared into the empty horizon.  
  
Rick panted and fell to his knees. "Not even," he panted, "a little," he panted again, "drop of water?"  
  
"No," Phoeb's voice boomed.  
  
Rick shook his head. "First you make me walk barefoot all the way to the spot, and now you tell me I can't have a drink. This is manslaughter!"  
  
"It's not manslaughter. You're being prepared for the sacrifice. You must be ritually dry to undergo the Hom-Dai."  
  
"The WHAT!?" Rick yelled. "Get me out of here!" He got up and turned to run.  
  
"You're too late, O'Connel," Phoeb muttered.  
  
Suddenly, the rising sun began to ripple, and with it, the entire horizon. As the ripple faded, the City of the Dead appeared in its towering glory.  
  
Phoeb grinned. "Come now." He began to walk toward the city.  
  
"Oh, no," Rick grunted, turning and walking away. Suddenly, a pillar of sand erupted at his feet, throwing him on his back. In the sandy waterfall, the bald face of Imhotep roared at him.  
  
"This has been pre-ordained," said Phoeb. "Imhotep lives. Now fulfill your destiny as Imhotep's sacrifice, and he may just spare you as his servant."  
  
Rick had no choice but to proceed toward the city. As they stepped in, he looked around at the familiar columns and ruins. He shook his head. His wife would have to come after him alone, he didn't know where his son was, he was about to get sacrificed and nobody knew he was there except Phoeb, and possibly, Imhotep himself. He looked around as if searching for a rescuer, but he only saw tall, lonely ruins and the impatient face of the priest.  
  
"Come. The Underworld awaits you," Phoeb grunted. They walked toward what seemed to be a stone hut. Raising a hand, the priest muttered some words in Ancient Egyptian, and the door dragged open, giving way to a downward stairwell. As they stepped in, Rick turned to catch one last glimpse of the sun. He figured it would be the last time he saw it.  
  
After going through a familiar maze of tunnels, they arrived into a black room with one blue ray of light seeping through. Phoeb raised his hand, and a parabolic mirror reflected the ray. One by one, the ray bounced off of hundreds until it reflected off piles of gold and treasure. Rick's eyes widened as he looked all around at towers of riches.  
  
Phoeb stopped in front of a human skeleton lying on the floor with mouth wide open. He turned. "Do you know this man."  
  
Rick stared at it. "Um, I don't know. All skeletons look the same."  
  
"He was a greedy treasure hunter just like you. Look, he died in this very room, surrounded by the treasures he'd spent his life seeking. He must have died a happy man."  
  
Rick looked closer, noticing the skeleton's open, screaming mouth. "No, I don't think so." Then he froze. "Benny?"  
  
"Was that his name?" the priest asked. "He is well learned in the Ancient Egyptian occult arts. He once became the servant of Imhotep, and he must be resurrected in order to receive his reward. But he can yet be used for Imhotep's purposes." He turned and walked toward another stairway.  
  
Before he followed, Rick stooped and picked up a handful of sand.  
  
After a few more staircases and tunnels, they came out over a cliff looking down into a bottomless pit. Phoeb had a flaming torch in his hand, and he raised it into the air, lighting the other side.  
  
Rick looked down and across at an alcove on the other side. "I've never seen THIS part of the city before."  
  
"It is a part of the city you will come to know well," Phoeb cackled.  
  
Rick wondered if Alex was somewhere here. Nostalgic thoughts of his son began to swim through his head. "Great. So how are we getting across?" He burned with hate for the priest.  
  
The priest raised his hands into the air, the torch in the hand closest to Rick, and prepared to mutter a chant.  
  
Just then, O'Connel approached him and covered his eyes with his sandy hand. Phoeb grunted and rubbed his eyes blindly. Rick grabbed the torch and shoved it into Phoeb's hip. Phoeb bent down, covering his hip, still blind. Rick balled his hand and gave Phoeb a blow to the forehead, then spin-kicked him off the ledge. Phoeb fell screaming into the bottomless pit.  
  
Suddenly Rick felt a jolt. Pebbles started falling as the ground began to shake. He turned and charged up the staircase into a four-way tunnel. He looked around, trying to remember which way he'd come. Just as he looked around, the sand rose where his feet stood.  
  
He knew what that meant. He picked a tunnel and bolted down through it just as the mound burst into a swarm of scarabs. He rushed down and turned a corner, disappearing deeper into the tunnel, hoping to find an exit, not knowing what he was running toward. 


End file.
